


Burnt Toast One-Shots

by 00qverlord



Category: Markiplier's Egos - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Other tags to be added, Sickfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, burnt toast
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 13:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12558840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/00qverlord/pseuds/00qverlord
Summary: A series of Dark/Host one shots





	Burnt Toast One-Shots

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing is for a very specific audience and I'm so sorry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ch 1 prompt:   
> Prompt from Spec (sushiandtomatoes): Burnt toast: what if somebody got sick tho

Some would assume metaphysical entities wouldn't be able to get sick, but they'd be wrong.  
It started, innocently enough, with a sneeze. The thing is, Host doesn't sneeze. He reels them back in as fast as possible, even if it makes him look just a little bit constipated. If he does happen to sneeze, it's the most deafening thing anybody's heard. Host just shakes his head, and goes back to whatever he's doing, but the other egos who are currently lingering around in the board room stared at him like he'd just crashed a hot air balloon into the meeting room.

Of course, sneezes aren't uncommon, so they let it go.

It happens twice in the same day, however, not 2 hours later when Host sneezes again. By this point, most of the rest of the egos have gone off to their own place apart from the meeting room by now, but Host is still on his typewriter, dedicatedly pouding away at the keys, muttering to himself even as the lights begin to dim around him, begging him to go home with the rest of them.  
He sneezes, and someone lets out a small shout from the doorway. Host turns around searching for a presence, even though he knows he won't be able to see them.  
Dark's small hand glides across his shoulder and up the side of his face to come to a soft rest in Host's dark hair. He knows it's Dark, because Dark is the only one Host allows to touch him without prior permission. The other egos had learned to take this seriously since one incident with a fire alarm, a snake, and Ed Edgar.  
"Host, that's twice in one day. Something's wrong." Dark's voice lands somewhere above his right ear and Host allows himself to relax, just a little bit.  
Host turns to try and face the direction he heard the voice coming from, and he's pretty sure he got it right. "The Host disagrees, The Host is fine."  
"Let's just agree to disagree. Come on, we're going home. I'll take your typewriter, don't worry."  
"The Host agrees that home sounds good, but The Host would like to make it known that if Dark were to drop The Host's typewriter, The Host will be rightiously furious with him."  
"Point taken."  
Dark guides Host out of the room by Host's voluntary groping for his partner's arm (Dark exclaimed once, when he landed on Dark's face), and left to go home.

  
It was definitely the dust that was causing Host to sneeze.  
Host, of course, uses his blindess as an excuse to not dust any of the unused surfaces around the house, and Dark likes to use the excuse that it felt like a horror movie, which of course, was the whole point of his existance. The log cabin in the woods was just far enough away from the other egos' residences that no one knew they bunked together, and no one questioned it. It was just the right size that it lay in the forest undesturbed as well, because no one else could find it.

They didn't have a TV after the horrendous debacle with Warfstache TV, but the fire crackling in the fireplace was a nice accompanyment to the quiet breaths from the two egos on the couch in front of it. Dark, who had changed out of his suit into something more casual (a rare occurence), and Host, in his more typical homewear, loose cloth accompanied by a fuzzy bathrobe. Because it was soft, and Host liked the feel of it under his rough hands.  
Dark was more languidley stretched out, legs dangling off the edge, while his lap was taken up by Host's head, who had curled up in a ball and facing the fire.  
Host, out of the blue, shoots straight up, stares directly at the fire (though Dark suspects it's because he has nowhere else to look), and tries his best to reel in a sneeze, but is unsuccessful. Host sighs, "The Host is going to lie back down now."  
"Hm, no. Three sneezes in one day. You're sleeping this off." Dark looks at his compatriate and softly pushes him up.  
Host stands up and reaches out of his hand for Dark. "The Host wishes Dark will accompany him?"  
Dark glances at the closed door down the hall, "I've got some work to do. I'll be down later."  
"The Host does not like to admit he's sick, but The Host will admit he is sick if it means he can get Dark to join him."  
Dark sighs, but takes Host's hand anyway. "Yeah, whatever, you'll be the death of me. We'll see how you feel in the morning."

The next morning is worse. It evolves from just sneezes, to sneezes and a wracking cough and a queasy stomach. He wakes up, face buried into Dark's shoulder, waves of hot and cold coursing through him at the same time. He lies there, milky white eyes covered in scars flicking back and fourth while he tries to move his knees to get the sheets between them to stop them from being so hot. In effect, Dark stirs next to him.  
Host holds his breath. He wants to sigh, but if there's any chance Dark's still sleeping, he doesn't want to ruin it by blowing across his bare chest.  
Dark doesn't stay asleep.  
Host moves down as Dark hoists himself up to lean against the back wall, Hosts's forehead pressing against Dark's hip, hair splaying up against Dark's waist.  
Dark's hand comes to rest on the side of his head, and Host is pretty sure he can feel Dark frowning.  
"You're hot."  
"The Host says thanks."  
"While it's true, I meant you're literally hot. Do you feel any worse than yesterday?"  
Host pulls himself tighter into Dark, "The Host feels a lot worse than yesterday. The-Host-isn't-entirely-sure-why-he's-awake-at-all worse than yesterday."  
Host feels Dark's fingers run back and forth through his hair and that motion alone almost lulls him back to sleep.  
"Don't come in today, stay here and rest then."  
"But The Host has work to do-"  
"Not today you don't. I'll cover for you."  
Host sniffs once, and lets his eyes close again. There's at least a bit more time before Dark has to check in, which means there's a bit more time to stay with him.


End file.
